


I'll be alright, Sister

by ElfrootAndEezo



Series: The Hawke and The Other Hawke [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Dynamics, Hawke Family Feels, Journey to Skyhold, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-22 01:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfrootAndEezo/pseuds/ElfrootAndEezo
Summary: Fenris arrives in the dead of night asking for Carver's help.Marian's joined the Inquisition.Worried for her safety the two join together and make the long journey to Skyhold. They won't let her throw her life away.Sequel to 'You'll be alright, Sister' though both can be read alone.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mentioned miscarriage.

Carver jolted awake in the dead of night, hands fisted in his sheets, and sweat beaded on his brow. He’d not slept well for some time. Between the ongoing situation in Kirkwall and the utterly bizarre things going on with the Templar order he’d been on edge. It didn’t help that he hadn’t heard from Marian in near on two months. And while his older sister often lacked punctuality, she’d never gone so long without a letter.

 

The sound of raised voices near the front of the small house had Carver jumping out of bed and reaching for his sword in record time. He wasn’t sure quite what kind of idiot would attack the Guard Captain’s house in the middle of the night, but they’d surely regret it.

 

The door to the Hendyr’s guest bedroom Carver had been forced to make himself home in creaked as he nudged it open. He shuffled down the hallway to first check on Rowan, Aveline and Donnic’s fiery little girl. Satisfied that she was sleeping, Carver darted down the hall toward the disturbance.

 

He stopped dead in his tracks as he caught sight of Fenris, in a heated argument with Aveline. The elf was cursing in his native tongue, as Aveline wrapped in a nightgown far to feminine for her shook her head.

 

“Absolutely not.” Aveline stood tall. Carver was sure that any lesser man would have cowered beneath the sternness of her glare, but if there was anyone stubborn enough to rival the Guard Captain it was Fenris.

 

“Do you understand?” He spat his words out in barely contained anger.

 

“Understand what?” Carver asked, lead already settling into the pit of his stomach. No letters from Marian and now, Fenris’s arrival.

 

“Your sisters joined the Inquisition.” Aveline sighed, rubbing her temples in exasperation.

 

“She’s convinced this whole thing is her fault, so rushed off to offer her life once more. Venhedis, when I see her again…” Fenris trailed off, cursing under his breath as he paced back and forth.

 

“And, where were you?” Carver pointed his finger accusingly. Maker knows, he’d trusted Fenris with his sister’s happiness.

 

“I returned from an out of town job to find Marian gone, and nothing but a note in her place.” Fenris snarled. “I’d never have let her go alone.”

 

“Enough!” Aveline silenced them both. “This is not the time or the place.”

 

Carver stilled under Aveline’s gaze, motherhood had only made the woman more intimidating. He was almost certain the Maker and his bride would both falter before her. His sister might even falter before her too.

 

“Carver, you know Ferelden.” Fenris stated in the simplest of ways.

 

“Yes.” Carver raised his brow at his elven unofficial brother in law.

 

“No, Fenris.” Aveline sighed once more. “I promised Hawke I’d keep him safe from it all.”

 

“Marian asked you to keep me safe?” Carver’s face screwed up at the thought. It was always shocking to be reminded that underneath all of the flamboyant, sarcastic, sometimes murderous exterior, his sister was a bit of a softie. He’s shoulders rumbled with laughter at the idea of Marian sitting down and taking the time to pen a note asking for his protection.

 

“She doesn’t wish to be the last Hawke.” Fenris nods, voice carefully even.

 

“Nor do I.”

 

Carver shared a look with Fenris, and decided that no matter what, Marian would not be giving up her life without need. She’d headed their family, gone into the Deep Roads, duelled the Arishok, fought slavers, magisters and even a dragon, she’d defeated the cities most corrupt and lived through it all. At a cost. He knew how heavily it all weighed on her, how those she couldn’t save haunted her dreams.

 

It was his turn.

 

*

Carver tilts his gaze toward Fenris as the elf clears his throat. They’re sitting together, backs pressed one of the ships walls as they await its departure. Carver hated the sea.

 

“I thought she was better.” Fenris sighed, resting his head on the wall behind him.

 

“Marian’s always been stubborn and drawn to danger. I’m not sure what else you expected.”

 

“That’s not what I-” Fenris began, before stopping and casting his eyes toward Carver. “How much does Marian tell you, in her letters?”

 

“Memories of the farm mostly, and occasionally ramblings about her days.” Carver shrugged trying to remember the last letter. Something about her attempt to bake a pie, she’d been proud that only the crust was burnt.

 

“We lost a child, in her third month, Marian had just begun to swell. She was convinced it was the price for all the lives she’d taken.” Fenris’s continued, voice shaky. “I remained by her side, turning down jobs as we worked through it together. Then news of Corypheus’s involvement reached us. I was a fool not to see how it’d affect her.”

 

Carver dared not look at Fenris, lest both men teared.

 

He pushed the thoughts from his mind, settling his eyes on the clouds overhead. Marian had given so much of herself to Kirkwall, and now she planned to give the rest to the Inquisition. She deserved better than pain and trauma.

 

Marian deserved a life.


	2. Chapter Two

Carver hung his head in his hands and groaned. He had half the mind to throw himself overboard and drown at sea. He hated being at sea. The ship lurched as the ocean twisted beneath them and Carver flung his head over the side.

 

After sufficiently emptying his stomach he dropped to rest his back against the railings side, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic. Maker, he smelt disgusting. Scrunching his nose up in disgust he glanced up at the sound of a snort. Fenris stood nearby, smirking. Curse the elf for avoiding sea sickness.

 

“Something funny?” Carver groaned, muttering curses under his breath as Fenris settled his eyes on him.

 

“Marian,” Fenris’s mouth twitched into a smile. “The family resemblance is clear now.”

 

“Right.” Carver nodded, resting his head back against the ships side. “I’m sure my sister will be glad to hear she looks like me fresh from emptying my guts. You’re a true romantic. Really. Marian’s lucky.”

 

Fenris rolled his eyes in a way that was all too much like Marian, she’d worn off on him over the years, and tossed a pouch of water in his direction. Carver took a mouth full before spitting it overboard, emptying the taste of sick. He grimaced, and took another, drinking it eagerly.

 

“We took a ship to Nevarra, she spent half the journey with her head in a bucket. Told me she wasn’t near as bad as you.” Fenris laughed, as though the memory was warm and enjoyable. Carver wasn’t sure just what there was to smile about but listened none the less. Mostly because he was too ill to move. “Still managed to break one of the crew’s noses.”

 

“Of course, she did.” Carver sighed, closing his eyes in an attempt to end the rocking. “What’d he do? Smile at her wrong?”

 

“He claimed she’d have a better time leaving me and spending the night with him.” Fenris shrugged, clearly unfazed. Carver knew it happened more than it should, Marian had thrown many a fireball at seedy men in their time in Kirkwall. More often then not, it followed a comment about her elven lover. Carver was never sure why anyone thought it a good idea to insult either of them. They were both killers with reputations that preceded them.

 

Carver stilled, another wave of nausea washing over him. He held his breath a moment, before expelling the air from his lungs slowly. Momentarily freed from his body’s desire to empty itself he groaned. He really hated being at sea. It was about as enjoyable as Ander’s manifesto.

 

“Andraste’s ass the Maker’s cruel.” Carver muttered to himself. “Once we land in Ferelden, I’m staying put.”

 

Fenris laughed, stepping forward to watch the sea lap at their ship. “Marian says the same thing each time we travel by ship.”

 

“I don’t give a toss what Marian says.” Carver groans out without malice. “I’m staying in Ferelden.”

 

Fenris doesn’t speak again, but Carver can see the smile clear on his face even as he turns away. Carver thinks about saying something, something smart and mildly insulting but the words never form in his mouth. Instead, he nods along, eyes closed, desperately praying to the Maker to set him on solid ground.

 

“Get up ya landlubber.” A gruff, aged voice spoke as one of the crewmen lumbered towards him. “We’ll make shore within the hour.”

 

Carver groaned, willing himself to stand and glance out across the sea. Fenris had retreated, likely to help the crew prepare for land.

 

Ferelden.


	3. Chapter Three

Ferelden was not entirely as peaceful as Carver had remembered it. He wasn’t sure whether his memory had failed him or the state of Thedas had just withered so. Still, it was a step up from Kirkwall. At the very least Ferelden’s refuges were being fed and warmed. Whether by King Alistair or the Inquisition, Carver couldn’t be sure. It was especially crucial in Ferelden, he figured, the temperatures were far less forgiving. Fenris was even wearing shoes. Carver was almost certain the elf had never worn shoes in his life.

They settled by a small campfire, each wrapped in furs and blankets. They’d begin the climb into the mountains at dawn. Carver poked a stick at the fire, pushing embers about out of boredom. He’d never considered himself a chatty fellow, but Fenris was all but silent. He occasionally spoke, mostly of Marian and occasionally complaints about Ferelden’s smell. Ten years ago, he’d never have thought he’d want the elf to converse with him. He was nervous though, and so was Carver. But, Marian had to be okay.

“You know, the Inquisitors one of you,” Carver speaks without thinking, as he always does.

“An Elf.” Fenris shifts, eyes on the flames. “But nothing like me. The Dalish are slaves to nothing but their own binds.”

“You’re not a slave anymore.” Carver tosses his stick into the fire. The flames crackle as they dance around the stick, filling the air with smoke.

“I’m not.” Fenris nods, in agreement. “But many still are.”

Carver nods, not sure how to follow up that conversation. Truthfully, Carver wasn’t well read in the issue of slavery in Tevinter. Marian, of course, had taken her time to learn as much as she could about the Imperium to help Fenris. He was opposed to slavery, like any fair and just person would be, he just was resigned to its existence.

Carver glanced up at the sound of Fenris rifling through his pack. Wine in hand, Fenris settled himself down on the opposite side of the fire. He should have known the elf had stocked up as they passed through the last village before Skyhold.

Carver couldn't help but roll his eyes as Fenris smiled for the first time that day. Fenris had changed in many ways over the years, but he suspected, his taste for wine would never change.

"It dampens the smell of dog." Fenris took an appreciative sip.

"And if you and Marian were to settle in Ferelden?" Carver raised an eyebrow. "Would you become a drunk?"

Fenris laughs, voice throaty and rough from the cold winds. "I'd have Marian, that's all I need."

"You have awfully low standards." Carver tries his best not to roll his eyes at Fenris's gentleness. He'd never understood the bond Fenris and Marian shared, but he couldn't deny its intensity.

"You've said the same about her, I'm sure." Fenris smiles and takes another gulp of wine.

Carver grins as he makes eye contact with the elf. "I have." It was no secret that Carver hadn't always approved of the relationship of the pair. Of course, it was utterly reasonable to disapprove of your sister having an intimate relationship with a runaway slave skilled in the art of killing. At the very least, Carver had thought it reasonable.

He'd been wrong though. He knew it without a doubt, even if he'd avoid admitting if it all possible. The apostate turned Champion that was his sister, and the slave set free man that was Fenris had fit together better than he could have imagined. They'd both found comfort in the other.

"She is more than I'd ever imagined." Fenris nods, eyes on the wine bottle clutched in his hands.

"And you still haven't married her." Carver laughs, as he tugs his blanket tighter to counter the mountain chills.

"I would," Fenris speaks, his eyes carefully not meeting Carvers. "She's afraid I'll feel owned. I'm not sure she realises she's kept my heart for years already and I don't mind. It's hers."

Fenris clears his throat, and Carver turns his eyes to the sky, immediately aware of the difficulty Fenris has always had sharing his experiences.

"You know," Carver speaks as he avoids moving his eyes from the stars. "I wouldn't mind having you for a brother in law."

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

It's nightfall by the time the two of them reach the impending fortress that is Skyhold. The air is crisp, and Carver's breath is clouding the air before him. His stomach clenches uncomfortably, whether in anticipation or fear he does not know. They haven't heard any word of Marian, aside from her joining of the Inquisition. He hoped she was okay. 

 

The guards at the gate eye them cautiously as they state their business in the fortress, before a woman, clad in hooded clothes ushers them in. 

 

"You must be Fenris," She smiles, knowingly, before turning to Carver. "And Carver Hawke?"

 

"Indeed." Carver nods.

 

"Where is Hawke?" Fenris grinds out, evidently not in the mood for small talk. If she's intimidated by Fenris's brash attitude, she doesn't show it. 

 

"Sorry about him," Carver eyes Fenris. "We're just eager to see Marian. We haven't heard from her in some time."

 

She stares them down for a moment before signalling they follow. "The Champion is safe. I believe she's with the Inquisitor."

 

Carver and Fenris trail behind the woman. Eyes follow them as they step through the grounds of the fortress. There are more people than Carver anticipated, soldiers, civilians and merchants alike. Marian wasn't the only one to run off and join the Inquisition, it seemed. 

 

They enter a large hall, echoing with bustling conversation. The noise quietens a moment as eyes fall upon the three of them. The woman, he gathers must hold some importance by the way everyone parts to let her pass. He wonders how many of them know who they are. Fenris, he thinks, must be known. 

 

They pass through a door, at the far end of the hall, and begin the journey up several flights of stairs. He can hear laughter and voices echoing down. The heavy feeling in his stomach dissipates; laughter meant things were well. 

 

The woman knocks once, before entering, Carver and Fenris behind her. Carver's eyes dart about the room, searching for his sister. He knows that Fenris is doing much the same. He doesn't see her.

 

"Leliana, join us." A familiar voice calls, and when the man of the voice turns, he recognises the Night Captain. He looks far happier than he has ever seen before.

 

"I know better than to bet against Josie." She smirks, standing to the side to make Carver and Fenris known. "I brought company."

 

Several heads turn at once, elves and humans alike, even a Qunari as Night Captain Cullen stands and greets them. "Ser Carver, Fenris."

 

"Where's Marian?" Fenris questions, after a brief nod. Carver has to physically stop his eyes rolling. Maker, he had no tact. 

 

"She'll be back in just a moment." An elven woman, who'd been seated beside the Night Captain glances over her shoulder. "She and Varric just ducked to the cellars."

 

"Join us," A woman, antivan accent thick, beckons. "A friend of Hawke's is a friend of the Inquisitions." She smiles brightly, nodding in the direction of some empty chairs. Carver snorts in response, imagining Merrill or Isabella joining an organisation as influential and esteemed as the Inquisition. His eyes then fall to another elven woman, draped across one of the chairs, drool pooling and hair seemingly hacked with a blunt knife. The snort dies in his throat. 

 

"Hah!" A man, seated to the right of the elven woman from before chirps. "Be warned, she's after your coin."

 

"And your clothes." The qunari adds with a laugh, and a wink. 

 

Carver glances over at Fenris, all most certain the man is about to start crushing hearts in frustration. His own fears of Marian's safety have all but faded. Unless she and Varric have found themselves in a brawl. It's not entirely unlikely given their history.

 

The door clicks behind them, and Carver expecting the woman, Leliana to slip out doesn't turn. 

 

"Well, shit." Varric. He'd recognise the voice anywhere.

 

"What is it?" Marian's voice echoes behind them, and then she shrieks. Carver stumbles, finding himself knocked to the side as Marian throws herself at Fenris. She's speaking, or maybe crying, but he can't make out a single word. 

 

Fenris, he thinks, is whispering to her. He can't be sure though, her own voice is drowning out all other sounds. Carver steadies himself and watches as Marian sinks into Fenris and he brushes the hair from her face. He wonders, at that moment, how he'd ever doubted Fenris's love for her. They move in sync, before their sense return and they pull apart, hands still entwined. 

 

"Sister." When she finally turns to him, he smiles. Maybe, once before he would have been annoyed that his sister had ignored him, ignored family for someone like Fenris. Now he realises, Fenris is her family. 

 

"Carver." She grins, wrapping her arms around him, crushing him with a strength he didn't know she possessed. 

 

There are tears in her eyes her eyes flit between them. 

 

"Sorry." She bows her head, as if ashamed of herself. 

 

"I would have come." Fenris's voice is low, as he reaches out to her once more. She leans into his touch, and Carver turns away, carefully focusing his eyes on something other than the intimate moment they were sharing.

 

"I know." Marian laughs uncomfortably. "Lucky you didn't though, you hate the fade."

 

"Physically this time," Varric adds, rubbing the back of his neck with a chuckle. 

 

He hears Fenris exhale and a string of foreign curses trail from his tongue. There's a laugh from one of the men who'd spoken before, and Carver wonders just what Fenris is saying.  

 

A hush settles over the room, and Marian tugs them both towards the table. She smiles all the way, and he can't help laughing himself.

 

"I'm glad you're safe." Carver nods, as he settles into a nearby seat. Her arm is still laced with Fenris, and he's not sure who's holding the other tighter. 

 

"Thank you." She smiles at him, and then at Fenris. "Thank you both. For always being there."

 


	5. Chapter Five

Carver thought Kirkwall had it bad with its blood mages, rogue templars, abominations, Qunari and Meredith. Chunks of earth at least stayed grounded in Kirkwall. It had been unlike anything he'd seen, watching from afar as the Inquisitor and a couple of her people fought Corypheus.  He'd seen his fair share of brawls and battles, but none quite like the battle to defeat Corypheus. The people of Kirkwall had never quite believed in them the way those at Skyhold believed in the Inquisition, even when everything had turned to absolute shit. 

 

The tears, hugs and well wishes were something new too. Kirkwall had only delivered a swift warning that the Templars were inbound. He almost wanted to tell them to shove their concern. He didn't though. Partly because he knew his bitterness had nothing to do with these people, and partly because he knew Marian would never let him hear the end of it. Instead, he'd smile, nod his head and wish them all the best back. 

 

The celebratory mood doesn't last forever though, and Carver wakes up the next morning to find everyone back to business. For the most part. He follows his sister and Fenris into the Inquisitions war room, joining the Inquisitor herself and a handful of advisors. She's sporting several injuries but brushes off everyone's concern. It reminds him of his sister. 

 

The Antivan woman Carver had come to know as Josephine, glances down at her notepad before addressing the room. "It's best we keep this short, though there are many important decisions to be made without delay."

 

"There always are." Inquisitor Lavellan sighs, before motioning to continue.

 

Carver's attention wanders as Josephine begins listing repairs, issues with nobles and all the other problems important people have to deal with. He has never had much patience for politics. Really, he's never had much patience at all. 

 

"Then there's the matter of the Grey Wardens," Josephine scribbles at her notepad. "Their chain of command is fractured, and they've suffered considerable loss. I recommend having someone accompany them to Weisshaupt, and assist the Order in its repairs."

 

His sister has always been prone to offering herself for the sake of others. It had been the case ever since they were children and she'd throw herself in the path of bullies knowing full well she was unable to fight back, just to keep Bethany and himself safe. He sees her step forward, ready once more to offer herself to a cause and words tumble from his mouth before he can consciously string them together. 

 

"I'll go." 

 

Several sets of eyes turn to him at once, and nods back at them, carefully avoiding his sister's eyes. She'd berate him no doubt, for putting himself in danger. 

 

"I'd met Stroud in Kirkwall, and again here." Carver straightens his back. "I hold great respect for the Wardens and the Inquisition, and would happily offer my assistance."

 

"Carver," Marian's disapproval rings through her voice. "You have a life in Kirkwall."

 

"As did you." He nods, continuing. "And you might again one day, as will I, after completing my duty."

 

"You were a templar yes? Under our Commander?" Leliana asks though Carver is positive she already knows these answers. "Do you plan to remain with the Templars?"

 

"That depends on the order." Carver shrugs because he hasn't given it a whole lot of thought. He doesn't know what kind of order the Templars will be at the end of this all. 

 

"We'll join you," Marian states, near on aggressively. "You almost died at the Battle of Ostagar, if Mother knew I let you run off to a Warden Fortress she'd kill me."

 

"Have faith in me, Marian." 

 

***

 

Marian and Fenris joined Carver and the Wardens as they travelled down the Mountains, away from Skyhold, all the way to the sea. Weeks and weeks of travelling and he heard her complaints the whole way. 

 

Fenris remained silent on the matter, at least to his ears. 

 

She begs him one last time as they stare across the sea, as he prepares to board the ship. He smiles at her, laughs a little and pulls his sister into a tight bear hug. Fenris's lips even turn up in a smile. 

 

"Please Carver, you don't have to do this." She's looking up at him, tears in her eyes as she pleads. "If something happens to you... I don't want to be the last Hawke, Carver."

 

"I'm not going to die in Weisshaupt." He rolls his eyes, trying his best to lighten his sister's mood. "It's a simple enough mission."

 

"Nothings ever simple."

 

"Well then, all I ask is you name your first child Carver." 

 

"I hate you," Marian says as she swings a punch at his arm, he smiles anyway, because he knows he's won. She's smiling. 

 

"Really," Carver rolls his eyes, unfazed. "All I want is both of you to take a break and live a normal life. Just for a little while. You're free now."

 

He means it. Carver has seen his sister give up a lot for many different people, he's seen her scarred, bloody and crying, still refusing to back down. She's protected him, and their family, as much as she doesn't believe so. Fenris has been by her side through it all, giving up just as much, and overcoming something much worse. 

 

He'd give up anything to give them a chance. 

 

Someone from the ship whistles, a warning that they're about to leave and Carver turns to his sister for the last time in who knows how long.

 

"I'll miss you," she throws her arms around him once more, and Carver steps back, almost knocked from his feet.

 

"We both will," Fenris nods, and Carver almost wants to laugh but the warning look on Fenris's face tells him not to. Instead, he smiles and nods. He never thought he'd consider  _the elf_  a friend, let alone family. Yet here they were.

 

"Be safe." Marian orders, as she separates her arms from him and wraps them around Fenris's arm instead. 

 

"I'll be alright, Sister." He smiles, turning his back and boarding the ship. 

 

It was his turn. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps if we ever find out all the happens in Weisshaupt, I'll do a follow up with Carver in Hawke's place.  
> For now, though, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
